— — — — — —
"Tsk… so this is what someone meant when he said he really understood Dumbledore."
A new day brought rare good weather to Hogwarts. A soft breeze and mild temperatures drew students out of the castle. Groups of young witches and wizards lounged on the lawns, chatting and relaxing.
Tom was out on the grass with the girls, keeping part of his attention on making them smile while the rest of his mind was busy roasting Grindelwald in the study space.
"This is what you meant when you said Dumbledore would never work with Babajide? He agreed so fast you could practically hear the little twirl in his voice."
"T-Tom… please stop," Grindelwald muttered.
Ariana hid her laugh as she pretended to comfort Grindelwald but delivered the final blow. "Gellert... oh poor Gellert. He really thinks he understands my brother. Sigh~"
"Just let it go. Next time, don't make promises so casually," she added.
Andros stayed quiet, enjoying Grindelwald's changing expressions. His face shifted colors faster than a paint palette.
Okay, he didn't stay quiet for long and joined in the roasting—they were practically cooking the old man alive.
"You three…" Grindelwald felt a tightness in his chest.
But it was all Dumbledore's fault.
Grindelwald had been confident only a few Aurors would be foolish enough to walk into his trap. He also assumed Dumbledore wouldn't dare start a direct fight and certainly wouldn't lead an ambush.
Yet here he was, face stinging from reality's slap.
"He must be worried I'll start killing…" Grindelwald tried to find a halfway reasonable excuse. "If he didn't show up, those Aurors would definitely die. So of course he had to come."
"Yeah, sure, absolutely," Tom said with the kind of lazy perfunctoriness that nearly made Grindelwald explode.
"I'll make him pay for this."
"Yeah, sure, absolutely."
"Can you say something else?"
"No "
Grindelwald was seconds from exploding.
Enraged, he bailed out of the space entirely. Ariana finally dropped her restraint and burst into laughter. Tom and Andros joined her.
Just a moment ago, Tom told them about Babajide's plan.
He hadn't heard the news from Dumbledore, of course. But he had seen the future with his time-talent.
In the vision, Fawkes's flames carried the old wizard down like a divine weapon, phoenix fire clashing violently with Grindelwald's Protego Diabolica.
But Tom still wasn't certain whether the figure fighting Dumbledore in that vision was him or Grindelwald.
...
When the laughter faded, Ariana grew worried again. "Tom, if my brother's going, would you be risking exposure by joining the fight? He might not recognize you, but Fawkes definitely would."
"It's fine." Tom shook his head. "In what I saw, Dumbledore arrives late. As long as I stall a bit, I should get some playtime."
The chance to be surrounded by hundreds of Aurors wasn't exactly once-in-a-lifetime, but it was rare enough. Perfect for testing some of his spells.
"...Ok."
Seeing how confident he was, Ariana didn't push further. Tom was smarter than she was. If he'd already considered Fawkes, he must have a plan.
---
Behind the scenes, the ICW and the participating Ministries covertly mobilized their forces.
Meanwhile, newspapers in multiple countries reported that Dumbledore was heading to America.
And his excuse, hilariously enough, was related to Tom.
One of Tom's conditions for withdrawing from the tournament was that several schools contribute books from their libraries. Dumbledore claimed he was going to Ilvermorny and Castelobruxo to inspect the collection for him.
Hearing that, Tom didn't mind playing scapegoat at all. No matter how cunning these people were, it didn't matter in the face of someone who could literally see the future.
Tom even made a request. "Professor, I don't want standard texts. I want books with regional specialties. I trust your taste."
"Exploring different magical cultures is indeed beneficial," Dumbledore said with a nod. "But remember this. Hold fast to your principles. Absorb the strengths of other traditions, but don't let them shake your will."
"I'll keep that in mind, Professor."
Tom was genuinely touched. Dumbledore's words were soft but heartfelt, and they mattered more than they sounded.
For a brief moment he felt guilty about plotting alongside Grindelwald to tease the old man… but the guilt evaporated in about two and a half seconds.
Grindelwald really hadn't committed any atrocities since escaping. Dumbledore was the one insisting on stepping into the mud pit—he had no one to blame but himself.
~~~
Over the next few days that week, McGonagall and Lupin finally finished drafting the selection criteria. Starting Sunday, two students from different years would be chosen each week to represent their grade in the Underage Wizards' Dueling Tournament.
The second-year slot was practically guaranteed. Ginny was now stronger than both Hermione and Daphne. Tom wasn't worried in the slightest that she'd fail to qualify; in fact, she was almost certainly going to take first place in the second-year bracket during the finals.
Third-year, though… Hermione's spot wasn't actually that secure.
Her raw ability was fine—she probably knew more spells than all the other candidates combined. But her mindset and performance under pressure were terrible. Ordinary exams already made her nervous, let alone a real duel.
She also lacked talent for combat. Her spellcasting was too rigid, too by-the-book, and she genuinely had a chance of crashing and burning.
To be honest, Tom kind of hoped she would crash. A loss might finally teach her that book knowledge was important, but what you could actually use in the moment was what mattered most.
---
On Friday night, Grindelwald, who had been avoiding Tom and hadn't shown up in the study space for days, suddenly appeared with news.
"Vinda just received a letter warning me about the Confederation's little plan," Grindelwald said with an amused look. "It even listed the time and approximate number of Aurors."
"That's not surprising," Tom said.
Busy practicing wandless Patronus casting, he let the towering Patronus speak for him. Its voice rumbled like thunder. "There are always opportunists. Nothing strange about that."
"If it were just some random opportunist, I wouldn't have bothered telling you."
Grindelwald chuckled softly. "Do you know who the informant was? Barty Crouch, International Magical Co-operation Department, British Ministry of Magic. If I remember right, he almost became Minister once."
"Barty Crouch?"
Tom was stunned. "How can you be sure it was him?"
"His magical signature was on it. And he signed his name," Grindelwald said. "I was shocked too. He basically handed me the perfect weapon to destroy him. If I leaked this, Crouch would be ruined immediately. Azkaban would be the lightest punishment."
"I don't understand why he'd do it. Is he trying to gain favor for the Minister position?"
Tom didn't answer right away. He dismissed the magic, grabbed a towel, wiped the sweat from his face, then plopped down onto the stands. After thinking for a bit, he said:
"Honestly… it's probably not about power. His son was Voldemort's most fanatical follower. I think… this has something to do with his son. Leave it alone for now. Once this blows over, I'll find a way to approach him."
Crouch was capable, and Tom loved people like that—elite talent with a skeleton or two in the closet. Easy to control, incredibly useful. People like Bones or Sirius, who were driven by ideals, were much harder to handle. You could only cooperate with them to a limited extent; you couldn't expect loyalty.
If Crouch really wanted to defect, Tom had no problem letting the Acolytes take him in.
---
And Saturday finally arrived—the day before the selection duels. Second- and third-year candidates were busy making their final preparations.
Meanwhile... Inside the Room of Requirement, Ginny once again defeated Hermione.
The little maid had frightening combat instincts. She could make the right decisions without thinking and had raw spell power that made people stare. In every wand-to-wand power clash, she pushed Hermione back.
After losing, Hermione pulled out her notebook. It was already crammed with dozens of reasons for her previous failures, and now she added two more.
"Writing all that down is pointless," Ginny said helplessly. "You can't run through a checklist in your head before every spell."
Hermione ignored the complaint. She finished writing, skimmed everything quickly, and only then explained, "I don't have your natural talent for fighting. I can only use the stupid method—write down every weakness and fix them one by one. It's progress, even if it's slow."
"Honestly, Ginny, it's a pity you're only a second-year. If you were older, you'd win the entire tournament easily. A fifth-year you would take the championship for sure."
"Championships are nothing," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "Even ten champions together couldn't last a minute against Tom. I want to defeat him."
"Your standards are way too high," Hermione sighed. "Students should compare themselves to other students, not to a monster."
Hearing Hermione call Tom a monster made Ginny burst out laughing. "Funny. I heard someone used to challenge Tom all the time back in primary school."
"How was I supposed to know he was a monster back then? Anyway, Muggle school doesn't rely on talent the way magic does. Hard work actually matters there."
"I don't buy that. Tom told me Muggle academic subjects are harder than the most obscure books at Hogwarts—basically incomprehensible. Even if you two stayed in the Muggle world, you still wouldn't beat him."
"Ginny! Do you want to stay friends or not?!"
The two girls bickered their way back to the common room, where they both received a message from Tom.
『Tom Riddle』: I won't be watching the selection matches tomorrow. I've got something to take care of.
『Tom Riddle』: Good Luck
Neither girl thought much of it. They knew Tom was always busy.
---
Sunday
After breakfast, for the first time in half a year, the dueling platform was set up again in the Great Hall—this time, only a single main stage.
Dumbledore cheerfully announced the start of the selection, then left the school with Fawkes.
The moment he was gone, Tom became a streak of light, shot past Hogwarts' anti-Apparition boundary, and after several jumps, arrived in Berlin.
.
.
.